“You look amazing,” Thisbe said, ignoring the threat. And what she said was true. Fifer looked like a real princess. There were no real princesses anywhere in their world to compare Fifer to, but Kaylee had told them many stories about princesses in her world. And over the years they’d read as many books about princesses as they’d been able to find in the two libraries in Artimé. And they’d known Shanti, of course, who wasn’t hard to improve upon.

“Thank you,” said Fifer, thawing a bit. “That . . . means a lot.” Then her expression grew concerned. “You’re going, right? You’ve got something to wear?”

“Yes,” Thisbe assured her. “I’m getting my costume on now.”

“What is it?” Fifer asked. “Who are you going as?”

“You’ll see. I’ll meet you down there.” Thisbe went into the bedroom and closed the door.

Fifer seemed torn between wanting to make sure Thisbe wasn’t being sneaky and wanting to make her grand entrance right when the ball was beginning. She heard doors opening and closing in the hallway. Fifer opened their door a crack and peered out as a few others left their rooms in costume and headed to the exit. Fifer hesitated, then opened the door wide and went out into the hallway. “I have to meet Seth,” she called to Thisbe. “I’ll see you on the lawn. Soon?”

“Yes!” Thisbe shouted back. She opened the bedroom door a few inches and put her face in the opening. “And . . . happy birthday.”

Fifer smiled warmly, and for a moment the two felt like friends again. “You too. I thought this day would never come.”

“Same for me.” Thisbe didn’t add that she wished it would just end already so she could get back to the important stuff. She closed the bedroom door, and Fifer was off.

Thirty minutes later, Thisbe emerged to an empty hallway wearing the dead-Juliet costume: a medium-blue dress with a trick dagger attached to her chest, handle sticking outward so it appeared that she’d been stabbed. She’d spread a big stain of fake blood on her dress around the dagger, which had been quite satisfying to create, though it had left a garish mess that she’d have to clean up later in the bathroom. She slipped a sparkling blue mask over her eyes as she clomped down the hallway in her usual work boots—because if she was going to be stuck wearing a dress, at least her feet would be comfortable.